


Clothes, Collars – And Calamity!

by Cerdic519



Series: Bewhipped! [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adoption, Caring Dean, Castiel in Lingerie, Collars, Destiel - Freeform, Dom/sub, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gay Sex, Gentle Dom Castiel, Human Castiel, Jealous Dean, Lent, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm, Paddling, Pining Dean, Professor Castiel, Spanking, Sponsored orgasms, Sub Dean, Teasing, Texas, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, very mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-17 15:22:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 10,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5876014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>February in a year of fluff, families, friends and the sort of full-force love and devotion in which professor Castiel has mechanic Dean totally bewhipped. Cas' sister Anna has twins, and Dean pines for his absent husband. A totally forgivable lapse of judgement by a certain mechanic makes Valentine's Day highly memorable, and said mechanic pouts his way to a shed in the back garden. Sam visits for a weekend, Dean strives to avoid salad and Cas marks the season of Lent, but the month ends in disaster....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wednesday 1st February

He was gonna have a kid!

All right, not in person, but still. Someone to raise, instruct, show the glories of pie, have the Talk with (nah, Cas could do that), teach to drive, worry about when they didn't come in by their curfew....

What the hell was he thinking?

He arrived home a complete wreck. Cas, of course, had enough leaflets on the different options to build a friggin' battleship. 

“The two main ways forward are adoption and surrogacy”, he began. They had decided to go through their options before dinner, then either make a decision or break for food. “Surrogacy means that the child would be our blood, or at least the blood of one of us, but it is very expensive.”

“Not good”, Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck. Their finances were not in a bad shape, given the house purchase, but they could hardly raise the sort of sums Cas had written down.

“However, surrogacy does mean we would get a baby”, Cas continued. “Adoption is much more difficult, because everyone wants babies, whilst there are many young children and teenagers who need homes. And we would need to be approved, which they might be wary of as we have only just moved in.”

“Some social worker coming round”, Dean groused. “Great!”

“But think of the reward”, Cas said, his eyes shining. “Our own son or daughter, Dean. Someone we can raise who will make the world a better place.”

“Yeah, there is that.”

“Our own little Cas Junior.....”

“Hey! Dean Junior!”

“We'll see.”


	2. Thursday 2nd February

Dean was gonna kill his husband. And to anyone who wondered if the scruffy little genius really had any sense of humor – hah!

He had woken up early, the alarm clock bleeping its annoying reminder that it was seven o'clock and he needed to be up and out. Cas had turned the clock off, leaned over him and smirked. 

Oh. It was one of Those Mornings. 

The next thing Dean knew, Cas had slipped under the covers and was giving him one of his Extra-Special Blow-Jobs. Dean's still tired body juddered under the assault, and he just lay there uttering what were definitely unmanly cries until he came with a loud moan. Cas cleaned him off with a wipe from the bedside draw then snuggled in next to him, and Dean decided that perhaps he didn't really need to get up just yet.....

The alarm clock was beeping again. Dean opened his eyes and stared at it in confusion. Cas had switched the snooze function off, and besides, it still read seven o'clock. Fortunately Cas turned the clock off, leaned over Dean and smirked.

This time Dean was too exhausted to manage more than a few quiet moans, and he had tears in his eyes when he came. Thankfully Cas snuggled in next to him, and he knew he could rely on his husband to make sure he wasn't late for work. His eyes closed.

His eyes opened with a start. That damned clock was bleeping again, and when Dean looked at it, it still said seven o'clock. Cas was leaning over him and smirking.....

That was when Dean realized.

“Groundhog Day!” he almost snarled. “You sneaky bastard.”

“Sorry”, Cas said, totally insincerely. “Let me make it up to you.”

+~+~+

Dean wasn't late for work – but it was damned close! And if anyone smirked at his carefulness when sitting down, there would be trouble!


	3. Friday 3rd February

Cas only ever knitted for two reasons, most usually because he actually had something specific he wanted or had been asked to make. Sometimes however he knitted because he was stressed, in which case he would always knit small patchwork squares which he would later join to make a blanket for goodwill. So when Dean came home that evening and saw two squares already lying next to his husband and the needles flying away at speed, he knew immediately that something was wrong.

“Those dratted Menzies haven't been round again, have they?” he growled.

“No”, Cas said. “It's Anna. She wants me there for the birth next week.”

“Next week?” Dean was surprised. “I thought her kids weren't due for another three?”

“The doctors say that there is a problem with the position of one of the babies”, Cas said, looking pale in the flickering firelight. “They want to monitor the situation over the weekend, but if things don't right themselves by Monday they will induce labor. Dean, I'm scared.”

“Do you want me to take you to the airport tomorrow?” Dean asked.

“If you could”, his husband smiled. “I know you don't like planes, but...”

“But it's you”, Dean said firmly. “Can you get a flight?”

“There's a direct one tomorrow at nine.” 

“Book it”, Dean said firmly. “I'll set the alarm clock, and you should start packing.”

Dean ruffled his husband's hair, then went upstairs to their bedroom to sort the clock out. He returned to find the flight was all sorted, then told Cas he just needed to check on Baby.

Once in the garage, he broke down and cried. Yeah he was being selfish, but he was terrified of planes, and he would be losing Cas yet again! For at least a week, maybe longer if there were complications. Why did God have it in for him lately?


	4. Saturday 4th February

Because Cas knew him so well, Dean was not surprised (though he was relieved) to receive a text just after lunch that read simply 'landed okay'. It was swiftly followed by '@#*% turbulence!!!!!', which made Dean manage a weak smile. 

He had been due to go LARPing with Charlie that weekend, but with Cas gone he had texted her to cancel. He was similarly not surprised to return home to find her lame excuse for a car on his driveway and her inside the house (locks did not a Charlie keep out). 

The home-cooked pie however, well, that made him tear up.

“You need to do something to keep yourself busy, handmaiden”, she said shortly, running her fingers through her red hair. “I know you've got work, but you can't sit here pining for your angel every evening.”

“Can and will”, he sulked. 

She promptly whacked him upside the head. No respect, that girl.

“Why don't you do something for Cas?” she asked. “Do you have a definite date for his return?”

“Anna will probably have to be induced on Monday”, he said, pouring custard over his pie slice, “and he'll want to stay at least a few days after to see she's alright. Hopefully he'll be back next Saturday.”

“So you've got a whole week to do something nice for him”, she said reasonably. “There must be loads of things you've both got planned for this place. Why not start on a few, and surprise him?”

“I could just greet him naked at the door”, Dean grinned, waggling his eyebrows at her.

“Euw!” she winced. “That's a mental image I could do without. I'm due at Dorothy's place today, but I'll check in with you tomorrow sometime, 'kay?”

“Okay”, Dean agreed, feeling a little better as he started on his pie. It would be nice to do something for the guy who had done so much for him. His perfect angel deserved a really good welcome home.

Apart from the one Dean had already planned, that was!


	5. Sunday 5th February

Dean already had several things lined up for the week ahead when Charlie called that morning. He had told her of Cas' wish to have bees, and she had found that the town was large enough to have its own bee-keeping group. And better still, the group had a stand at the local Farmers' Market, which was open that day.

(Dean privately resolved that, if his brother ever commented on him being so whipped he was now attending a Farmers' Markets, he would be ringing that clown hire number straight away!). 

Mrs. Meredith King was, Dean thought privately, not a little unlike a bee herself, an idea not helped by her choice of yellow and black clothes. However she was helpfulness itself, and sat down with him to talk through the 'practicalities of suburban apiculture' (Dean's eyes were already glazing over). 

The bad news was that she thought their location and size of plot would not be enough to support a viable colony. However, she had a ton of leaflets on which plants could be grown in their garden to encourage local bees, and apparently quite a lot of the critters did not live in hives, so there were all sorts of things that could be done to encourage them to take up residence in the area. And the group offered members the opportunity to buy their own hives at the club base some way out of town, where they could go and tend the bees to their heart's content. Dean immediately took out a year's membership for Cas, and resolved that once the weather improved, he would star work on the garden for him.

He was slapping the honey he had brought at the market on some toast – ye gods, it was a thousand times better than the crap they had at the supermarket! – when he got another text from Cas. Thankfully Anna had finally gone into labor, just as the doctors had been about to arrange her induction. And when his husband griped about how it had rained constantly in Seattle ever since his arrival, Dean just laughed and texted him back that he would soon be an uncle. To which Cas immediately replied, yeah, so would Dean.

Fuck! He hadn't thought of that!


	6. Monday 6th February

When they had had their flat together, Cas had pretty much run things, despite his job. For Dean, there was something wonderfully domestic about kissing Cas before he left of a morning (the flat had been on the edge of the college grounds, so his husband had been able to leave later), and then coming home to a meal on the table and a loving smile across it.

Yeah, and the sex was great too! Cas was so damned flexible!

Dean had just never realized just what it took to actually make a place work. And when Cas texted him that morning that Anna had been safely delivered of twins, a boy and a girl, and that he would be back on Friday evening, well, Dean had to take a moment. Thankfully he was on the computer today, so the guys out the back could be avoided. 

Except Cas must have texted Benny too, because when Dean got back to his desk, there was a makeshift card with 'Congrats, Uncle Dean!' on it. He shoved it inside his desk drawer and pouted. Until half an hour later, when a second text was accompanied with a picture of Castiel holding his – their – new nephew, Peter, and then a second with their niece Anael. Dean was only human, goddammit!

Bobby told him to leave early that afternoon and have a celebratory drink. The old Dean would have done just that, but instead Dean went home and actually dug out Cas' cleaning tray from under the sink. His husband had been planning to give his new study upstairs a thorough clean-through before they redecorated it from its current beige walls and anemic cream carpet, so Dean would do that for him. And when his angel returned, he could start planning on what he wanted to do with the place.

Cleaning (properly), Dean soon discovered, was damned hard work. But he stuck to it, reminding himself that hopefully all this work would tire him out. It did, and oddly he did not even find himself getting that hungry, making do with some reheated pizza from the fridge. It took until nine, but when he was done he felt oddly proud of his work. Cas had a nice clean place to work now, and he had got through one evening without the angel in his life.

Three more to go.


	7. Tuesday 7th February

Dean was at work when he got a text from Charlie. There was an image attached, and he opened it somewhat warily - one never knew with the Queen. Fortunately it was not a repeat of the one from the lingerie catalog (although that had ultimately had a rather pleasant outcome). He smiled at the memory.

'Dot is flying to Kansas on Friday to see her mum, the Wicked Witch of the West. I'm taking her to the airport, and her flight goes half an hour before your angel gets in. Do you want me to bring him back?'

Now that was a difficult decision. It would mean a few more hours without his angel, but then, save him a long round trip and having to work Saturday at the garage to catch up. And besides, if he got Charlie to bring Cas to the house, he could have a little... surprise waiting for him.

He checked the attached file. It was a picture of a wallpaper book, opened at a hideous one with black and yellow stripes. Dean's first reaction was revulsion, before he realized it would fit perfectly with their bee bedding. Except it was a bit overpowering – unless they did it halfway up, and left the upper half white. Yeah, that would work.

He texted back his thanks, and then texted his husband about the slight change of plan. Cas must have been either sleeping or in an area with no coverage, because it was lunchtime before Dean got a text back asking if babies actually slept at all, and a picture of a red-eyed angel. Dean replied with a warning that that might well be them before too long.

'I hope so', came the reply.

Dean added tissues to the shopping list.

+~+~+

As Charlie had found the terrible wallpaper online, Dean was able to print out a quality copy of it on A4 and take it home. Another thing to make Cas feel welcome home. A home that was less than seventy-two hours from getting its angel back. Once home, he texted Cas to tell him how hard he was finding it with him not there, and received a sharp response telling him that getting hard would be easy once his angel was back. Dean had to go and jerk off there and then! He texted back 'not helping!', and received a winky face in return.

Damned sexy absent angel!


	8. Wednesday 8th February

It proved fortunate that Benny was not at work that day, having taken the day off because he was having work done on his roof. Dean got a call from him just after lunch, telling him that the couch and spare bed he and Cas had ordered from goodwill had turned up, and the delivery men had been persuaded to put it in Benny's garage. Dean thanked him, only then remembering that Cas was supposed to have been taking the day off today to wait in for their delivery. In all the to-do over his sister's birth, he must have forgotten to make alternative arrangements. 

Dean arrived home to find Benny waiting for him. The couch was old and needed work, but the thing that had swung it for them was that it could be split into two parts, enabling them to easily get it around the bend at the top of their stairs. Similarly the bed could be disassembled; it was destined for the spare room, whilst the couch was for Cas' study.

What Dean hadn't expected was to find both bed and couch disassembled and on the back of Benny's truck in his house's driveway.

“Know you'd want these set up for when Cas come home”, the bearded man said gruffly. “Andrea said she'd end me if I didn't help you get them up those stairs of yours. And that you're coming over for dinner this evening.”

Dean had the best friends in the world. He swallowed down what was most definitely threatening to be a chick flick moment, clapped his friend on the back and went to unlock the door.

+~+~+

Setting up the bed took some time, and once it was done Dean just dumped the mattress on top of it and left it. He and Cas had agreed that the spare room was not going to be anything fancy, just for people they liked who came to stay. For those they didn't like, well, they could dump a load of crap in the room and make it as unwelcoming as possible!

Actually, that set Dean thinking.....


	9. Thursday 9th February

Dean had woken that morning to a text from Cas, telling him that he was definitely returning Friday, and asking that Charlie try not to be too embarrassing when she collected him from the airport. Dean simply texted something back about asking the impossible, grinning as he did so. Then he checked everything was still okay with his Queen. When she wrote back about Dean cutting into her time with Dorothy, Dean responded with a graphic account of the welcome he was planning for Cas. 

He got a single exclamation mark in response, followed soon after by a text saying that she was dropping Cas at their gate and not coming inside!

Since he never got his full eight hours sleep without being wrapped around his angel, Dean had extra time to kill that morning, so he wandered round the back of the house, frowning. The problem was Cas' study, which only had one long narrow window because half its back wall was taken up with the upper part of the fireplace. What if there was a fire on the stairs whilst they were upstairs? The main bedroom had a large window at the end of each arch, so they could get out using that if they were trapped on that side of the building, but the tall window in Cas' study was too narrow for a man to get through, as well as being behind the desk where Cas worked. He considered offering to swap his gym and the study back around, but he knew Cas would refuse when he found out his reasons.

As well as the door to the corridor, Cas' study also had access through to the spare bedroom, and Dean wandered in there. This was much better lit, having windows on three sides rather than one, and looked out over the kitchen roof. Yeah, that was it. The window over the garage roof was big enough for a man to get through, and there was already an access ladder to the roof, bolted onto the wall just outside the back door, so Cas could get out that way. In the meantime, Dean needed to get a fire extinguisher.

Fortunately it was a quiet day at the garage, which gave Dean some time to check online for options for the window and ladder. He mentioned his worries to Benny, who suggested a local firm that had done work for a friend of his elsewhere on the estate, and Dean decided to keep them in mind. He actually felt a little proud of himself for not beating himself up over his failure, as Old Dean would have done. The new 'Cas-ified' Dean (not, as Charlie has once quipped, the 'Cas-trated' Dean) was a better man.

He still stopped on the way home to buy that extinguisher, though.


	10. Friday 10th February

Charlie had promised to text him a warning when she hit the far side of town, so Dean was on edge all day. Matters were not helped much when Cas texted him from Seattle to say that his flight was overbooked, and they were looking for people to fly the next day instead. Dean most definitely did not send a pleading, needy and desperate text begging his wonderful husband not to put himself forward.

He did not. It was three texts, because it was so long.

Mercifully Cas made it onto his flight after all, and now all Dean had to worry about was the four hours or so whilst his angel was in a tin-can death-trap at thirty thousand feet above solid ground. Yup, nothing to worry about at all. And he did not come close to crying when Cas texted him that they had landed at Dallas, and his luggage was taking an age to appear on the carousel.

Damn, tissues these days were just crap!

The airport was about three hours away, closer on two with Charlie's 'driving', so Dean had a rough idea that his angel would be home around nine, tired and hungry (and certainly more than glad to get out of Charlie's car!). Cas did not like flying, although he did not exhibit Dean-levels of paranoia about it, and his husband knew that he would be wrecked when he did get in. 

Charlie's promised text finally arrived, telling him she had just passed the city limits and would be home soon. He grinned, and carried on with his workout for another five minutes. Cas had a thing about sweaty Dean, a weird fetish, but then there were the contents of that drawer.....

He finally heard his Queen's yellow disgrace pulling up, before it roared away off the estate (he needed to call her in to see to that). The sound of Cas opening the door and calling for him, before stepping through into the living-room.... where Dean was naked and collared ready for him on the couch.

“Pizza's due in about ten”, he said shyly. “Feed me, master?”

Cas stared at him for a moment in silence, then broke, almost flying across the room to enfold his husband in a hug so close, it seemed that he was trying to burrow under Dean's skin.

Yeah, they were both crying. And the pizza guy got a larger than usual tip for not saying anything to Cas when he handed over the food.


	11. Saturday 11th February

The weather had, in a weird way, reflected Dean's mood that week. With Cas gone, it had been overcast and gloomy, short and annoying showers and generally cold. But today dawned bright and breezy, and better still, it dawned with Dean having a Cas in his arms. A Cas who had made it perfectly clear last night just how glad he was to be back. Several times!

Dean would be moving gingerly for much of the morning. And he would relish every twinge and every ache!

Fortunately the bright weather continued into the afternoon, and Dean decided to take the opportunity to clean Baby. On the drive, naturally, so everyone could see what excellent taste he had. Not that he was showing off, of course.

Look, wearing that skimpy halter-top was just practical!

Dean was buffing Baby's paint up to a shine when a sedan drove up and pulled onto the driveway next door. Not the Menzies' car, as the two of them shared a Prius, Dean knew (presumably most of the people in the area were intimidated by Baby into having crappy cars). A black couple got out, both of whom looked mildly constipated from the heavy frowns on their faces. They were about the same age as the Menzies, and Dean wondered if they were relatives of Delilah. 

The access path wall was lower in front of the two garages, so the new arrivals could clearly see Dean, who was on the far side of Baby washing the bonnet. He noted that the young woman in particular was eyeing him with interest, until the man coughed pointedly. She scowled at him, but followed him into the house.

Dean smirked. At least until he felt a familiar presence standing behind him, and turned round to see Cas looking at him disapprovingly. Oh yeah, his choice of clothes. He grinned at his husband.

“Hiya, Cas.”

“I see”, his husband said ominously. Then he turned on his heel and went inside, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Huh?


	12. Sunday 12th February

Dean woke that morning feeling unusually sore – and not the good kind of sore. Cas hadn't reacted at all to finding Dean washing Baby in that skimpy top of his. Yeah, they'd had sex the night before, but not the Cas fucking him until he was screaming and then fucking him some more that he had been hoping (desperate) for. 

It was mid-morning already, so Dean made his way to the bathroom, hoping that his husband had got breakfast ready downstairs. He trudged down the stairs still feeling a bit down, but at least Cas had left him some reheatable food out, so there was that. Although of the scruffy angel there was no sign.

He was surprised when he heard Cas' car turning into the garage just as he was finishing. If one of them needed to go somewhere on the weekend, they usually both went. Still, maybe his husband was letting him have a lie-in.

“I wanted to go to the Farmers' Market early”, Cas called, “to get some winter plants for the front garden.”

Dean snorted. Their 'front garden' was two tiny triangular flower-beds either side of the front door, each barely a meter across and currently full of weeds. Although the forecast for today was..... what the fuck!

He stared at his husband in horror. Cas was wearing a pair of Lycra pants that hugged his perfect ass and left absolutely nothing to the imagination. 

“Tell me you wore that damned trench-coat over that!” he growled.

“Why?” Cas asked innocently. “It's warm for February. And these are quite comfortable. I think I shall wear them when I plant the beds. I shall start now.”

Dean stared in horror. His husband was going outside to show the world that? And from the look on his face, Cas was going to make sure as many people as possible got a real eyeful. His life sucked!

+~+~+

Dean counted at least twenty-six people passing by that day, all way too slowly. He scowled at every single one of them, and was sure his bastard of a husband was wiggling his butt at the more attractive ones. And when Charlie texted him a shot someone had put on Facebook of said butt, he had to go out to the back and swear loudly. Damned social media!


	13. Monday 13th February

Cas knew. 

It was the thirteenth which meant an unlucky day, and that alone should have stopped him, but when that brunette came into the garage and wearing what was basically a napkin for a skirt – well, Dean was only being friendly in talking over what was wrong with her car. Yeah. She had looked at him like he was a genius and that had made him feel good, but he had to be nice to all customers. That was his job.

Possibly it could just about be argued that it was not his job to let all customers kiss him in gratitude. Or to leave him their phone numbers. Which Dean had binned immediately. 

Er, eventually.

Alright, so he had made things worse by not 'fessing up once he had come home. Cas knew his husband was an attractive man and that this sort of thing would happen from time to time, and provided that Dean told him all about it, he was usually fine. But Dean was still sulking over his husband's gardening display the day before, so he said nothing. And until sixteen minutes through dinner everything was fine until....

“You have lipstick on your cheek, Dean.”

Dean did not whimper. He did not start sweating. He may, inadvertently, have choked on his mouthful of food.

“Some chick kissed me at work today”, he said casually. “Couldn't stop her.”

“I see.”

There was a pained silence.

“I think you need a lesson in taking care”, Cas said calmly. “I am thinking..... spanking.”

Dean perked up. 

“Tonight?” he asked, trying (and failing) to not sound too eager.

“You misunderstand me, Dean”, his husband said. “I was thinking a six-month ban on spankings.”

Dean's eyes widened in horror. That was one of his very favorite activities, especially when Cas wore his Sexy Professor get-up and put a cock-ring on him before beating his ass raw. Dean had actually passed out last time, so overcome had he been with emotions. It had been awesome.

“How about a one-month trial to see if I've learned my lesson?” he asked hopefully. 

“No”, Cas said flatly. “But you have given me an idea.....”

Dean officially hated the thirteenth, Friday or not!


	14. Tuesday 14th February

Castiel Winchester was a first-class bastard, Dean had decided. Hell, it was Valentine's Day, one of Dean's most hated days of the year, yet he'd put aside his dislike of the annual snoozefest and arranged to take Cas to one of his favorite restaurants, Makin' Bacon, where Cas could work through half a pig to his heart's content. Dean really hoped that that would soften his husband's attitude over his very slight error of judgement the day before, even if it had been the third time this year he'd slipped up. 

Alright, the sixth. Still, marriage was all about love and understanding, wasn't it? Give and take?

Once they were back home, he discovered that Cas was indeed into give and take. He gave Dean an order to take his clothes off and report to the couch in five minutes, and once he got there, he applied the cock-ring and a gag, and brought out his largest paddle. The one with the rough side. Dean's eyes had widened in alarm, and sure enough, less than a minute later, he was over the professor's lap and taking the beating of his life. 

Yet even whilst tears were streaming down his face, Dean was feeling a surge of love for his wonderful husband, who put up with so much more than just Dean's very occasional waywardness. Cas had insisted that, with Dean so far out of it the last time they had done this scene, that they use an old table-tennis bat that Dean had painted red one side and left green the other, so that he could signal an end if he wanted to by knocking it over or across the room. He knew deep down that the pain was just a precursor to what was to come. Him.

Sure enough, Cas eased off and guided Dean on wobbly legs out to their kitchen, where he had already pushed the table against the wall to make more space. Dean leaned back on and grasped the table with with both hands, yelping as his abused butt hit the smooth wood, while Cas slowly worked his cock up to where he felt it was going to burst. And then finally his husband released the cock-ring and Dean came violently, shrieking his satisfaction as his come flew across their tiled (soon to be hardwood) floors. It seemed to last forever, until he realized that he had stopped and Cas was offering him some orange juice. He sipped it carefully, slowly coming down off that wonderful high.

“Happy Valentine's Day, beloved”, Cas said, his own breathing somewhat irregular. “And now you know exactly what you'll be missing for the next six months!”

Yup, no doubt about it. Castiel Winchester was officially a first-class bastard! Dean loved him, though.


	15. Wednesday 15th February

Cas was such a dork, Dean thought fondly, remembering just in time to reach for a cushion before sitting down. And he got his feathers ruffled over some of the dumbest things. 

Sam had emailed his brother late the night before, asking if he could spend a long weekend at their new house. Wisely, Dean had made sure his husband had had at least two cups of coffee and was well away from anything breakable before telling him. And just as he had predicted, Cas had had a full-on panic attack. Honestly, Dean should just have had his brother turn up unannounced.

No. Cas would kill him. Or worse, he would withhold not just spankings, but all sex. Dean had barely survived that dreadful weekend when Cas had caught him ogling that busty waitress at TGI Friday's that one time – one time, and her excuse for a uniform should have been declared illegal in Texas - especially as his bastard of a partner had gone full out to be as sexy and provocative as possible just to remind Dean of what he was missing out on.

The make-up sex that time had been awesome, though. Dean's body shuddered at the memory. He might not survive a repeat of that!

Cas fretted that the spare room wasn't even decorated, and Sam wouldn't like it. Or there wasn't much to do in the town, and the younger Winchester would get bored. Dean scoffed at that; the two would certainly conspire to drag him around the damn Farmers' Market, having a complete nerdfest with each other. Dean did not believe in God, but he did sometimes utter prayers to whoever that only one of the Winchesters was gay, otherwise he was sure Cas would have gone for Sam. 

When he got home and found Cas still fretting that evening, he suggested that they attend the weekend service at All Angels. Cas was not really religious despite his angel name and he generally preferred to attend church and do his thing with the guy upstairs away from other people, but on the rare occasions he had managed to drag Dean along in the past, his husband had seen how content the little scruff looked, and swallowed down any objections. If it made Cas happy, Dean would hang the moon.


	16. Thursday 16th February

Sam was flying in to Dallas tomorrow and heading back on Monday afternoon, having managed to wangle a long weekend off of his professors (Dean was sure the nerd would be working both sides of his break to make up for it, though). Apparently his brother's on-off thing with his fellow student Jessica Moore was on hold for a while, as her family had come out strongly against their relationship. Snobs!

Dean had arranged with Bobby for him to take Friday and Monday off, and to work Sunday and the following one to make up for it. It would also have the advantage of his avoiding having to accompany Sam and Cas to the damn Farmers' Market (which Dean hated with a passion), so they could spend as long as they wanted there without having a sulky husband/brother constantly looking at his watch in the background whilst they made goo-goo eyes over green crap. Much better for Dean to be buried in some engine while the nerds did their thing.

He had had hard work that morning to persuade Cas not to juggle his own schedule for Friday so that he could stay home and clean even more. Sam's flight got in after midday, so it would be at least three o'clock before they were home, more likely four with a stop for lunch. And worst of all, Cas was talking about preparing nothing but salads for the visit. Thankfully, a prolonged blow-job that morning 'dissuaded' his husband from such an extreme course of action. Honestly, the things a poor husband had to do these days! And after dinner, Cas actually wanted to head back up to the spare room and clean it again! That was where Dean staged an intervention; he bodily dragged his husband to the couch, turned on the TV, and pulled Cas on top of him. The little scruff whined about still having lots to do, but Dean simply kissed him until his objections faded to nothing, and he snuggled happily into his husband's chest. And before the first program was finished he was already asleep, snoring softly as Dean looked down at him and wondered not for the first time what he had done to end up so lucky.

His Cas. His husband. His own perfect angel.

+~+~+

His angel was even more perfect when, two hours later, Dean helped him up to bed and Cas let Dean be the big spoon for once. Bliss!


	17. Friday 17th February

There were several things about the world that were, in Dean Winchester's not-so-humble opinion, blatantly unfair. For example, the fact that his body needed sleep, which meant he had at least eight hours a day when he was not having sex with his husband. Or the fact that he had to leave the house and go to work most days, which meant even more time not buried inside his angel (yeah, it was usually the other way round, and shut up!). But right at the top of that list was the fact that his princess little brother with the L'Oreal tresses had turned out taller than him. Genetics sucked!

Sam, thankfully, had not grown any more by the time Dean collected him from the airport. They stopped at a diner once they were clear of the airport, and exchanged news. Sam's course was going well, and his professors were expecting him to finish a whole year early, which was good for his finances. The younger Winchester had a scholarship, but it only covered tuition and accommodation, not such luxuries as food. He was a bit down over the Jessica Moore thing, but his brother had expected that.

Dean remembered to text his husband to assure him that he had collected Sam successfully, and added a jibe not to let his husband and brother-in-law arrive at the house to find him still cleaning. He did not get an immediate response, but when they stopped for gas not far from home he found Cas had sent him a picture. Of his angel wearing kitchen gloves. And nothing else! Thank God Sam was in the restrooms at the time, and Dean was able to get his breathing back to normal by the time he had returned.

He texted back a rebuke to not give his husband a hard-on when driving with his brother! Damn sexy angels!

Cas was fully clothed when he met them at the door (his husband was relieved; Cas' body was for him and him alone), and Dean knew from the delicious smell percolating around the house that his husband had put in the burgers that he had prepared the night before. Dean had been forced to agree to Cas making a salad for the nerds, but had demanded pizza for Sam's last night, even if it would be accompanied with another salad. Dean was not some sort of doormat who had no say in what went down in his own home.

And now his own conscience was sniggering at him! Goddam!

+~+~+

After Sam had gone to bed, Cas did get out the kitchen gloves again. Dean was so grateful that Sam's room was some distance away, despite the gag.


	18. Saturday 18th February

Hell, if Robert E. Lee had planned his military campaigns with the same thoroughness that Cas had his brother's visit, then it would be the stars and bars that'd be flying over the White House today. Damned angel had every last minute mapped out, including all options short of an unexpected apocalypse. Little nerd!

Dean knew it was serious when Cas actually got up before him on a Saturday morning. Without sex. Very unfairly without sex; Cas insisted on going down early and making the moose breakfast. If having Sammy here was gonna cut into time spent horizontal with his angel, then his brother's visits damned well better be few and far between!

Unfortunately that prospect was scotched when Dean eventually made it downstairs to find the nerds discussing the day ahead. And Sammy had a certain look about him which, Dean knew from experience, bode ill. Sure enough, once the day ahead was set the moose leaned back on his chair and ran his fingers through his ridiculous hair. A bad sign.

“I saw one of your neighbors when Cas and I were out running this morning”, he said, far too casually. “Really attractive brunette.”

“Sarah Blake”, Dean said. “She lives across the entrance to the Close. Works at the art museum in town.”

“They are doing a post-modern exhibition this week”, Cas said. “Sam said he would like to go and see it.”

“Yeah, Sammy's always appreciated a fine piece of ass... I mean art.”

His brother scowled at him. 

“Some of us appreciate art, Dean”, he said frostily.

Dean smiled up at his husband as he placed a full breakfast in front of him.

“Some of us get to live with it, Sammy boy!” he smirked.

God, but Cas was adorable when he blushed! And the look he was giving Dean - yup, once the moose was gone, he'd be well rewarded for that remark!


	19. Sunday 19th February

His husband was a sneaky little shit, Dean decided. Even though he slept in Sunday mornings, Cas always went for a run some time during the day, yet the night before he had asked Sam if he would be alright running by himself the following morning. Dean had no doubt that his brother would take the opportunity to call in at 842 on his way out or back, and the smug grin that the moose wore on his return only confirmed that.

Dean quite liked the occasional Sunday working, as he could get all the paperwork up to date without the usual stream of interruptions from both customers and colleagues. He was sorry that he would be missing time with his brother, but the three of them drove in in Baby before he waved the nerds off to the Farmers' Market (which he was somewhat less sorry to be missing). He only hoped they'd not get so out of it that they'd forget to come pick him up later. As he had guessed, Sam stopped only briefly to look around the garage before heading off with Cas to make goo-goo eyes over raw vegetables and yucky green stuff. His husband had voiced that opinion only once – one time, dammit! - and Cas had forced him to eat salads for a whole week, the bastard!

The alternative on offer – a week without sex – hadn't even been an option.

There were also a couple of cars that Dean could start on if he finished his work in the office, but the time passed more quickly that he had expected, and he was just finishing off his printing when he heard Baby's distinctive rumble in the yard. He collected the last of his work, turned everything off and hurried outside, climbing into the passenger seat.

“Still can't get over that you let Cas drive this old thing”, Sam teased. Dean glared at him.

“Don't listen to him, Baby”, he said, patting the dashboard. “He's just jealous because he drives a pile of crap back in Cali.”

“Benny and Andrea have invited us all over for dinner this evening”, Cas said. “I said I'd bring dessert.”

Dean looked at him hopefully.

“The pie is in the back, with Sam”, Cas smiled.

“I wonder if Benny has 'whipped' cream?” came a mutter from the back seat.

Dean ignored it.


	20. Monday 20th February

Dean was able to combine taking Sam back to the airport with another trip to the parts guy in Dallas who, it seemed, was the only person in the state able to source parts for some of the odder things his fellow Texans chose to be seen driving in. It did however mean a rushed parting at the airport (though Dean still managed to throw in a smart remark about their neighbor and Sam's crush on her) and then having to go back to the garage and work late into the evening. 

Dean was famished when he finally closed the place up at seven, only to get a text from Cas asking him to come home as soon as possible. Of course he immediately panicked, but since he had the best husband in the world Cas followed up his first text a minute later with another assuring him that everything was okay.

The flip side of Bobby being so accommodating at the garage was that, on days like Presidents' Day, Dean sometimes lost out on holidays when the garage stayed open to cope with all the people out on the roads. It had been busier than usual, so Dean had spent all his time in his overalls, his computer work now finally up-to-date. So he was exhausted as well as hungry – but still anxious as he hurried home.

Cas was in the kitchen, and there was a definite aroma of pie, though unusually Dean could not detect which flavor. Cas smiled at him as he bowled in.

“Everything is fine, Dean”, he said reassuringly. “I just wanted to mark this special day.”

“Presidents' Day?” Dean asked, confused. 

“Blue Monday”, Cas said. “Lent starts on Wednesday, so traditionally today and tomorrow was when people would use up all the good and sweet things in the house so they would not be tempted.”

“And you made pie?” Dean said. He could feel himself tearing up.

“I thought after a long, hard day, you would enjoy having pie as your evening meal”, Cas smiled. “And after that remark to Sam about living with art.... oof!”

The rest of that sentence was lost as Dean smothered his lips with a kiss. The pie could wait!


	21. Tuesday 21st February

Anyone who knew him would have thought that Dean Winchester did not have any trouble with language (though he had learned the hard way never to swear in public in front of his husband again after The Sears Changing-Room Incident). So when Cas promised Dean pancakes for dinner that Shrove Tuesday, Dean had been admittedly surprised that what was basically a snack could be dinner, but he wasn't complaining. 

Except that what turned up on his plate that evening wasn't pancakes. It looked vaguely similar, but it was flatter and, impressively for Cas, not burnt.

“What's this?” Dean asked, confused.

“Pancakes made the English way”, Cas explained, starting on another of them. “You can put all sorts of things on them, but sugar and lemon juice are the usual choice.”

Dean applied both juice and sugar, and cautiously tried the oddity before him. It wasn't that bad.

“You get this out of a recipe book?” he asked.

“No”, Cas said. “When I got home, someone was in 788, the house the other side of the Menzies'. We got to talking about the neighborhood, and he mentioned these. I found a recipe online.”

“You talked with a stranger about pancakes?” Dean asked.

“He's English, and moving in come April”, Cas said. “Parker Bradley, mid- to late twenties, single and quite good-looking.”

He grinned as he heard the barely suppressed growl from the table behind him. For all his claims that he did not do jealousy, Dean did not take kindly to other men or women eyeing up his husband.

“Another bloody foreigner”, Dean muttered. “Still, hopefully he'll be better that those bigots next door.”

“We'll see”, Cas said with a smile. “He was very friendly.”

There was another growl from his definitely-not-jealous husband. Cas hid a smirk. Looked like it was gonna be a rough night.

With any luck!


	22. Wednesday 22nd February

It was one of his gorgeous husband's little quirks, Dean thought, that although the guy named after an angel did not really 'do' religion, he observed several of the Christian holidays with almost military precision. Unfortunately this included Lent, which meant that every year he expected Dean to join him in giving up something, and donating the money saved to charity. Last year he had actually persuaded his husband to give up pie for forty days, which experience had been made infinitely worse by Cas boasting about it to their 'friends', who had then teased Dean mercilessly about how whipped he was.

Dean frankly didn't see their point. Yeah, he was whipped when it came to Cas. So?

This year, Cas had something different in mind, as Dean found out when he followed his husband up to bed that evening. 

“It has been a difficult month”, Cas began, toying with his husband's chest, “and we have probably both done things to upset each other.”

Dean stared at him warily. His keen sense of danger told him that this was going somewhere that could be interesting or dangerous. Possibly both.

“Yeah.”

“I know how much you enjoy orgasms, Dean”, Cas grinned, as his husband marveled at how his nerd of a husband could come out with statements like that. “So I am going to make you pay for the privilege.”

“Pay”, Dean said, confused.

“This year's charity will be Wounded Warrior”, Cas said. “There are six weekends between now and Good Friday, so for every orgasm you have on one of those twelve days, you will donate a dollar to them.”

Dean just knew that there was something else. There was.

“It will be arithmetical”, Cas said, “so your second orgasm of the day will cost you two dollars, the next three, the next four, and so forth.”

“What about you, Cas?” Dean asked. His husband was suddenly very close to him.

“I shall be making sure that you have six very expensive weekends!” he growled.

Dean Winchester, manly man extraordinaire, whimpered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As foretold, I shall be offline for about a week from Friday 26th. I am going to post two episodes a day for the next four days to take the story to the end of this month, and will resume posting on the 5th, double-posting for four days to catch up. The good news is that I am halfway through writing April.


	23. Thursday 23rd February

One of his husband's few failings (which he more than made up for in oh so many other areas) was that Cas had a competitive streak, which could sometimes manifest itself in the oddest of ways. As Dean found out that evening when he beat Cas home, went to collect their mail which unusually hadn't come before they'd left that morning, and walked up onto their porch. 

And bumped his head. What on earth....?

There was a large black metallic hanging basket, which definitely hadn't been there that morning. Cas had had to attend an open evening at the college and had gone in later than usual, so he must have gotten it that morning. But why? 

Dean frowned at the basket. He could see that it needed its chain adjusting so it didn't brain anyone else on the way in, so he carefully took it down and into the garage, planning to sort it out when it was light the following morning, or possibly at the weekend. 

He was about to return to the house when he had a sudden thought. He trotted back to the gate and looked across at the Trans' house. Thankfully they had a porch-light, so he had a good view of their front door. Nope.

He walked warily around the low wall by the access path and looked up at the Menzies' long bungalow. Aha! There was a hanging basket over the entrance, and Dean was sure that it hadn't been there before. His husband was so damned competitive over such things.

Hell, it was for Cas. He went back to the garage, and spent five minutes adjusting the chain so his husband's newest addition to their household was no longer a safety hazard. Then he returned and hung it back up. He said nothing about it to Cas when the tired professor clambered into bed later, but the professor still whispered a 'thank-you' to him, and even let him be the big spoon again.

Meh, Dean quite liked this marriage thing.


	24. Friday 24th February

The next addition to the Bewhipped household was also from the plant world. Though the reasons for its advent were somewhat different to that of the hanging basket.

One of the few bad things about the estate was the street-lighting, which had never worked satisfactorily. The old-style lamp-posts may have looked good, but the lights in them were poor, and they failed frequently. Finally however something had been done, and new posts had been fitted throughout the estate, including the one that lay close by their front gate.

Dean arrived home that evening to find Cas in their kitchen, visibly subdued. The guy looked almost embarrassed for some reason (which was odd, considering his husband was the one currently naked except for his collar), so he asked why.

“Benny came by earlier”, Cas said. “About the new street light.”

“Yeah”, Dean said. “And?”

“Apparently it shines straight in through our living-room window”, Cas said. “Though our, uh, very thin living-room curtains.”

Dean went pale. 

“You mean that Benny saw.....”

“Only dim shapes, he said”, Cas said, blushing. “But enough to tell him what..... you know.”

“I think we need trees for the front lawn” Dean said firmly. “Conifers, so I don't have to be sweeping up leaves every autumn. With one placed right between us and that damned light!”

“Agreed!” Cas said fervently. “And we might look into some thicker curtains while we're at it!”

+~+~+

They fell asleep that night happy and contented, Dean in Cas' arms. The mechanic had, of course, completely forgotten that tomorrow was the first weekend in Lent.....


	25. Saturday 25th February

Dean only remembered what was special about this weekend after Cas had woken him with a rare Saturday morning blow-job, and then followed it up with an awesome jerking-off in the shower. At least he remembered once his brain had managed to start working. Definitely worth a couple of bucks.

Except that when he came out of the shower, Cas was still getting dressed. And that he was wearing.... what the fuck?

“What is that?” Dean asked, aghast.

Cas was wearing some sort of studded leather harness, which fitted snugly around his muscular frame, and extended down to a metal ring that fitted tightly around.... oh fuck!

Dean suddenly realized that, for him, Lent was gonna be damn expensive!

+~+~+

Cas insisted on two small conifers, one of which would block out the new powerful street-light, and the other to match it across the path. The bastard kept noticeably adjusting himself right through the store, and Dean found himself growing hard over plants for the first time ever.

The trees would be delivered on Wednesday. Meanwhile Dean dragged Cas back to Baby and made good use of those handy bench-seats. Definitely worth a few dollars more.

+~+~+

By the end of the day, Dean was a broken man. How on earth was he supposed to resist divine perfection when it was bare-chested and in the same house, let alone wearing leather? Damn, he was only human! And Cas keeping a running score chart on the fridge was just mean!

His upper brain, disobliging as ever, waited until he was about to fall to sleep before kindly reminding him that the weekend continued tomorrow. Goddam!


	26. Sunday 26th February

Sunday morning. A chance to lie in and recover from the beating that his body had taken the day before. After waking him up with a blow-job – way better than the alarm clock - Cas had gone for an early shower, and Dean could only hope that his husband would lay off him that day, otherwise he would not be fit for work come Monday. And Cas would never....

His husband chose that moment to come out of the bathroom, and Dean turned to smile at him. 

The noise that came out of his mouth two seconds later was barely human. Cas was wearing a full lingerie set – a new set of panties that were definitely not Dean's, blue and black lace with large gaps through which his delicious skin peeked, and worse, a silky almost transparent top to match. Dean could feel tears forming in his eyes. This was so not fair.

Cas lay down on the bed next to him. Dean drooled.

“What do you think?” the professor asked dryly. “Does it suit....”

He stopped as Dean pounced on him, kneeling over the shorter man who grinned up at him triumphantly. Well, it was worth two more dollars to wipe that look off of his face!

Or five more.

+~+~+

By lunchtime, Dean was digging out the special ointment that he bought online for times when things were.... a bit sensitive in certain areas. He shuddered as he realized that he had five more weekends of this torture to go. And his traitorous cock was perking up at the prospect, the bastard!

He heard his husband calling his name, and whined in protest. But he put the ointment away, adjusted his collar and trudged away like a man condemned to face his destiny.

Thankfully, Cas laid off him for the last few hours, as otherwise Dean would have had to give up on Monday. And it turned out that the little guy had already ordered more ointment for him. The supersized jar!


	27. Monday 27th February

Because the estate was not that far from the mail center, it was usual for letters to arrive before one or both of them went to work. That morning brought two communications, neither of which could really be classified as 'good news'.

“The Estate Office lets us know that they've sold one of the lots in the Close, and work will start there next week”, Dean said dryly. “Gee, so nice of them to give us so much notice!”

“Which plot is it?” Cas asked. The one that backs onto us?”

“No”, Dean said, looking at the map that had accompanied the letter. “The one next to it, 853. What's up?”

Cas had opened the other letter, and had gone pale.

“A worker from Child Services wishes to call for a half-hour preliminary visit”, he said glumly. “Wednesday. The day after tomorrow!”

“We knew this was coming”, Dean said, worried about how down his husband suddenly seemed. “And it's only a preliminary visit. What can go wrong?”

“I won't have the house clean enough in time!” Cas almost shouted. “She'll hate the place! She'll hate us! We can't....”

Dean shut him up the most effective way he could think of. And if that involved his tongue being very firmly in Cas' mouth until his husband's body sagged against his own, well, that was just a sacrifice he was prepared to make. Because he was that kind of guy.

Though if truth be told, he was just as worried as his angel.


	28. Tuesday 28th February

It had been a bad day. 

Cas, of course, was in a cleaning frenzy, desperate to make a good impression. Dean definitely did not mock the guy; he could remember the first time Cas had come round to his and Sam's place, and how his little brother had laughed beforehand as Dean had to ask where the cleaning products were kept. 

God bless Benny and Andrea, who came round that evening and suggested the one thing they had overlooked; baby- or kid-proofing the place. They were trying for one of their own and Andrea's sister had two already, so she knew about all the potential hazards around the house. The two went online and drew up a list of everything they would need, which could he shown to their visitor to prove that they were serious. Having a kid was like a military campaign, Dean thought wryly.

Benny insisted on having them back to his place for pizza – 'don't want the smell lingering in yours tomorrow, brother' – and when he and Cas finally made it back to their own bedroom they were shattered. But Benny had taken Dean aside, and pointed out that there was still one very important conversation they needed to have before the big day. One which would not be easy.

“One of us will have to give up their job to look after the kid, if they're too young for school”, Dean said carefully. “I think it should be me. Your job pays so much more, Cas.”

His husband looked at him for a moment, and Dean braced himself for an argument. Instead Cas let out a horrible keening sound and collapsed into his husband, who held him and rocked him gently as he sobbed.

“I don't deserve you, Dean Winchester”, he cried. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Cas”, Dean whispered into the impossible hair. “Don't worry. Everything will be fine.”


	29. Wednesday 29th February

Everything was not fine. Everything was dreadful!

Dean sat on the bed, cradling his exhausted husband in his arms and thankful that at last he had stopped crying and fallen asleep. The visit could barely have gone worse. The social worker, a snooty cow aged about a hundred called Ms. - 'not Mrs. thank you!' - Watts, had looked down her nose at them when they had opened the door to her, and had clearly marked them as 'Failed' from that moment on. Her questions were asked with a supercilious sneer that had Dean itching to slap her silly, and she had dismissed the proto-nursery with a shrug and an 'oh, is that it?'. And when she had made a pointed remark about how 'some couples' were unsuitable for the children who needed stable homes – well, Dean seriously considered having the bitch join Fluffy out by the pond! She'd hardly be missed!

The put-downs had continued, everything from Dean's job to the neighborhood, and even when Dean had pointedly said that neither gender nor race was important, she had sniffed 'to you, perhaps'. And social workers wondered why people hated them? Hah!

Cas had borne it all with his usual forbearance, but once she had gone, driving away in some crappy European tin-can, his husband had collapsed in the hall, and Dean had had to half-carry and half-drag him upstairs. His angel had spent over an hour just sobbing, muttering incoherent phrases whilst Dean gently rocked him. Now, with the help of a couple of tablets he was asleep, and much as Dean wanted to hunt down and kill that bloody woman who had done this to him, his first concern was Cas. 

Once he was sure the little guy was safely in the Land of Nod, he slipped downstairs and pulled his dressing-gown over his clothes, before hurrying across the road to 833. Fortunately he had a surprise he had been planning for his husband, and now seemed the perfect time....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! Promise postings will resume on the 5th.


End file.
